


Knife to Skin

by sinemoras09



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A private moment alone. Unrequited Madara/Hashirama. PWP. Angst. No spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knife to Skin

There is nothing but the sound of his breathing in the dimly lit dark, and furtively Madara strokes himself, crouched over the tatami mats that were laid out haphazardly at the corner of the room. Already, his eyes have gotten used to the darkness, which is inky and black except for the feeble haze of dull moonlight, and Madara has to close his eyes, already distracted by the shapes of things that seem to leer out at him in rebuke: it is a point of pride that he rarely does this, indulging himself like a mindless animal. Though there were whores and spoils of war, Madara himself had kept his physical desires firmly in check. He had always prided himself on his self-control.

The head of his cock slips against the moistened palm of his hand, and Madara swallows, letting the weight of his shaft glide in one closed fist. He's stiff and aching, the head of his cock weeping with pre-cum, and already the muscles in his groin and thighs tense. He closes his fist tighter around himself, stroking faster and pausing only to shamefully lick the palm of his hand - there is no oil and he's starting to chafe, the muscles in his stomach and flanks shaking with effort.

When he comes, it's with a shuddered breath, penis twitching into his hand. He hunches over, riding out the last few spasms of his orgasm, before straightening. Ejaculate oozes in his fingers like old dried blood.

_The engagement party drags longer than they expected, and Madara watches, arms crossed, as Hashirama laughs and speaks with exaggerated gestures. He can't hear what Hashirama is saying, but he can see the huge grin on Hashirama's face, as well as the brightness to his eyes that catch the light like mirrors._

_"She is beautiful," an advisor says, and Madara sees how Hashirama just grins and grins._

_He turns away quickly, slipping into the darkness, as the other clansmen begin congratulating him, clapping him on the shoulders and happily shaking his hand._

He wipes his hand with a handkerchief as the wind outside rises in the darkness, a close-mouthed, quiet sound, before standing. Then he grabs the nearest chair and throws it, shattering it against the wall.

 


End file.
